Watchers
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: Over the course of twenty-five years, they watched each other. It took the two brightest witches of their age all that time to figure out why.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this WAS going to be a oneshot, but it seems to be turning into a two or three shot. I'm not done writing for the evening, but I think this is a good place to cut off "part one"...so here it is. **

* * *

A small, tabby cat sat on a white window ledge of a two story house, peeking inside to the bedroom of a bushy haired eleven year old girl. The girl didn't know it yet, but she was a witch. The cat observed as pretty brown eyes peered intently at a muggle novel. Green cat eyes blinked as the older, trained witch in feline form wondered if what sort of books this girl, Hermione Jean Granger, would be interested in reading once she came to Hogwarts this coming fall.

Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, found herself earnestly hoping that the young Miss Granger would find a passion for her subject. She had a hunch the girl would excel in whatever subjects she studied, which probably meant she would end up in Ravenclaw, rather than her own school House of Gryffindor.

Sighing, Minerva left off the ledge on onto the sidewalk, and after looking around to make certain there was no one to observe her, she transformed back into her human form. Ebony hair was tied neatly into its traditional bun, but the Transfiguration professor was not dresses as she usually might. No, she could not wear a witch's robes to make first contact with the muggleborn witch and her family. Instead, she wore simple black slacks, and an emerald button down shirt, which only served to bring out her matching eyes.

After taking a deep breath, Minerva lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

* * *

Hermione Granger, muggleborn, stood anxiously in line with the rest of her new Hogwarts' students. She was with Harry Potter, who was rather famous but seemed nice enough, and another boy named Ron Weasley, who came from a large family, all of which shared noted red hair. He wasn't quite as nice as Harry, but he seemed alright. Time would tell.

"Students, if you would please follow me!" a stern, Scottish voice rang.

Hermione looked up and smiled at the woman who had come to her house three months ago and told her and her parents all about the Wizarding World, and how Hermione was a witch. It was in her blood. Professor McGonagall had looked far less strict when wearing slacks and a blouse then she did now, with what seemed to be a traditional Witch's robe. Still, Hermione decided that she liked the woman.

Less than half hour later, Hermione found herself sitting on a stool in front of the entire school, and an oversized, ratty old had was placed on her head. She pursed her lips as the Hat began to speak to her.

"Ah, you will be most difficult to place. You have the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, the cunning of a Slytherin, the mind of a Ravenclaw, and the bravery of a Gryffindor," the Hat said.

Hermione was listening, but she wasn't really worried about where the Hat would place her. She'd read _Hogwarts, A History_, before she'd arrived here, and reread it on the train ride, and she knew there were great qualities to each out. Her gaze wandered around the room, spotting the few first years who had already been sorted. Her eyes rested on the Gryffindor table, not for any reason other than that she briefly wondered what it had been like for Professor McGonagall, who she already knew had been in Gryffindor, when the older woman had been a student.

"Got your eye on Minerva, eh?" the Hat asked.

Hermione didn't feel a need to verbalize, as the Hat obviously could read her mind. _She seems like she would be a good teacher,_ she thought. _Strict, but fair, I'd imagine. Harry Potter's parents were also in Gryffindor, and the reading I've done suggests they were the same sort. I think being a Gryffindor is about more than just being brave._

"Bravery is often nothing more than the fortitude to do what's right," the Hat replied, "or not being afraid to speak your mind. A keen mind you have, and so…"

Hermione was lifting the Hat off her head and handing it back to Professor McGonagall, offering a grin before the Hat had a chance to finish.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Poppy had nearly needed to shove a Calming Draught down her throat after Minerva had found Hermione Granger, petrified, in a hall not too far from the Library. What on earth at the girl been doing all alone, at that hour, in the sodding Library.

The answer came to Minerva quickly enough. Hermione had been reading, of course. There wasn't much else the second year Gryffindor did. Thank Merlin Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had become her friends, or Hermione may have simply begun living among the books, talking to no one. On the other hand, being friends with Harry Potter is probably why Hermione was in trouble as much as she was. Minerva didn't peg her prized pupil as a person with a pension for mischief, but in the last few years, the trio of friends had found themselves in her office being scolded more than a few times.

Yesterday, Minerva had been wondering to herself if she could take another five years of their antics, but today, as she stood vigil at her her young student's bedside, she decided that she would muddle her way through a lifetime of those three so long as it meant Hermione was alright. The girl was special, the older witch knew without doubt. Why, she hadn't quite figured out yet, but she would.

After Hermione woke up.

* * *

Her hair was a dreadful mess. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had just returned to the normal timeline, after using the timeturner to go back and save Sirius and Buckbeak. Hermione knew she'd have bruises in the morning, after that fuss with the Whomping Willow, among other things, but she was more concerned about facing the less physical consequences. Regardless of the fact that it had been Professor Dumbledore who had prompted her abuse of the timeturner, and that everything had turned out alright, she had still abused the privilege that Professor McGonagall had given her at start of term. She knew she couldn't explain why, unless she wanted to go to Azkaban, but she would return the timeturner to Professor McGonagall in the morning.

Or…

Hermione could help but smile at her favorite teacher as she walked into the Hospital Wing. "Miss Granger. I trust you are well?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Well enough for being in the Hospital Wing, Professor," she replied quietly. "I was just thinking of you, actually."

"Were you?" the older witch asked, looking curious. "Whatever for?"

"I think it's best I return this to you," Hermione said, slipping the gold chain off her neck, and offering to the woman who'd given it to her nine months before."

Hermione watched her Professor's face for a reaction, and was relieved to find there was no disappointment, but rather an understanding smile. "These things really are a lot of trouble, aren't they?" she asked knowingly.

Hermione nodded. "It was great to be able to go to every class, and have time to get all my homework done the way I thought it ought to be done, but in the end, I think it's more than I can handle."

The older woman's lips twitched, forming a smirk. "And there I'd begun to think you could handle anything."

Hermione gazed intently at her Professor, wondering if there was more behind that comment then there seemed. "Handling everything is your job, Professor," she replied with a tiny laugh.

Suddenly, brown eyes met green, and the two Gryffindors just stared at each other for a few seconds. An understanding formed between them, though what that understanding was, Hermione wasn't quite sure.

She resolved to figure it out over the summer hols.

* * *

Minerva was standing in an abandoned hallway, face in a corner, crying. Voldemort was back. Another war had begun.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva turned around, quickly wiping her tears away on her sleeve. "Yes, Miss Granger?" she asked as soon as she had identified who had interrupted her blubbering.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked softly, staring at her with a small frown.

"Of course," the older witch said at once. She should have never let herself cry outside of her private quarters…

"Minerva…" Hermione said sternly, hands on her hips, startling the teacher by way of using her first name. "Who do you honestly think you're fooling? What's wrong?"

"I...I…" Minerva stuttered. She wasn't sure what was more shocking; Hermione concern, or Hermione having the nerve to address her informally. The girl was only fifteen! "It's none of your concern, Miss Granger," she stated, voice shaking. _Who was she fooling, indeed?_

Shocking the older witch further, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her teacher's slim waistline. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want. Just know that I care, and if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

At that, the fourth year Gryffindor pulled away, and walked away quickly, leaving Minerva standing there, staring after her pupil, totally at a loss for word or thought.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" she asked the now empty corridor.

* * *

Hermione felt a tingle go down her back as Minerva rushed past her, briefly laying a hand on her arm, and out into the courtyard, immediately wrapping Professor Trelawney in her embrace.

"Something you'd like to say, dear?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"There are several things I would like to say!" Minerva replied in a shaking, angry voice.

A moment later, Dumbedore strode into the scene, and asked his Deputy to escort the Divination Professor back inside. She did so, but as she pushed Trelawney along, she took a moment to glance over her shoulder and look directly at Hermione.

The younger witch suppressed a gasp of surprise as Minerva's voice echoed in her mind, quite clearly.

_Thank you Hermione, for reminding me how much good a simple hug can do._

Hermione first thoughts drifted back to the end of last term when she had found Minerva crying in a hallway, and given her a hug as an offered comfort. She'd known before she asked the older witch what was wrong that it was doubtful Minerva would open up to a student, but a hug was innocent and while it may have tread the line, it did not cross the teacher-student boundary.

At least, that's what Hermione had thought that day. That hug had changed things, however. Hermione couldn't quite figure out what the change meant, but she honestly hadn't had much time to dwell on it. Between a busy summer, most of which had been spent cleaning Number Twelve, and then being back at Hogwarts with that awful Umbridge woman teaching, and then convincing Harry to teach the students Defense, which led to the formation of _The DA_, she'd had little time to ponder what made her feelings toward Professor McGonagall different than how she felt about her other teachers.

On top of that, she'd come to the unsettling realization that she found Ginny more attractive than she found Ron; a notion that she was doing her very best to ignore. Padma was really pretty too, Hermione thought to herself. But it didn't matter. It did not mean that she was gay.

Nope, it didn't mean anything of the sort.

* * *

Minerva didn't know what she was thinking. Albus was dead, but it wasn't his presence she craved right now. Armed with tears and not a single shred of pride or dignity, Hogwarts' new Headmistress made her way down to the Black Lake where Harry Potter had indicated he'd last seen Hermione going.

As she approached, she could see familiar brown curls shifting in the wind. Hermione was standing alone at the edge of the water, wand in hand, though she did not seem to be performing any spells. Minerva watched the younger woman as she edged her way closer in silence. What was it about those soulful brown eyes that beckoned to her? Why, Minerva wondered, was she drawn to a student like a moth to a flame?

"Miss Gran -" she began to announce herself once she'd gotten within a few feet. "Hermione…" she finished in a shaking whisper.

Hermione turned, seemingly unsurprised to see her there. "Hello, Minerva," she said.

"I was wondering…" Minerva started to explain, and then trailed off. "Never mind, it's silly."

"Would you like a hug?" Hermione asked quietly, tilting her head to the side, a curious glint in her eyes.

_How had she known? _Minerva blushed and nodded slowly, feeling all manner of pathetic at the moment, but knowing nothing else would soothe her aching soul.

"Come to me," Hermione beckoned, opening her arms in invitation after quickly stowing her wand.

Minerva approached, slowly, eyeing the younger witch carefully. She wondered what this meant to Hermione. Had they developed, unknowing, some sort of familial bond? Or perhaps, had their respective ages and stations been brushed aside like ash in the wind, allowing them to form an unlikely friendship? What did it all mean? How did Hermione feel?

Sensing Minerva's hesitation, Hermione stepped forward as well, meeting her teacher half way, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "It'll be alright," Hermione whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Not today, not tomorrow, but eventually… it will be alright."

Minerva knew that tomorrow, she'd be strong again, and tomorrow, she and Hermione would pretend the hug had never happened, just like they had the last time. That was the beauty of the whole thing, Minerva mused. Hermione demanded nothing from her - no conversation, no explanation, no excuses; she simply offered a shoulder when Minerva needed it, as if it had always been that way, though when the sun fell and rose again, she seemed content to slip back into the role of student which Minerva guiltily knew that she should never have allowed Hermione to step out of in the first place.

After Hermione graduated, perhaps they would talk about it. But not now. This moment, this embrace, appeared to be as forgettable as a face in a crowd, though something told Minerva that she would remember it forever.

* * *

**What do you think? Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**And...part 2. One more to go. Can't wait to hear what you guys think!**

* * *

It was the picture of beauty and grace, Minerva thought as she watched Hermione Granger, the woman, dueling three Death Eaters not too far from where she was standing, having just bought down the two followers of Voldemort she'd be battling. Where had the time gone? When had the bushy-haired girl she'd once known grown into a fierce woman whose skill and knowledge rivaled few? Minerva knew that a lot of Hermione's growth had been in the last year, being on the run with Misters Potter and Weasley; she couldn't imagine what sort of hell the three of them had been through.

But that was war. It made adults of children, and soldiers out of green activists. Harry had felled Voldemort a few minutes ago, and now it was down to the last standing members of the order to fend off those of his followers still standing and fighting for their cause. The end was in sight, though the danger was still there. Minerva resolved, as she moved toward Hermione, to see to it that the young woman whom she hoped to call friend when this was all over, did not become another victim on the ground.

Her volley of spells joined Hermione's, and before another minute had passed, three more masked bodies littered the rubble covered atrium.

"Thank you," Hermione huffed, breathing hard. "For a moment there, I thought they had me."

"Not likely," Minerva smiled. "Your skill is far greater than theirs."

Around them, the sound of spells flying and people screaming began to fade as the last Death Eaters fell. In the blink of an eye, the war against Voldemort was finished.

Hermione looked around, dazed and uncertain of the silence, as Minerva looked intently at her darting brown eyes. Carefully, Minerva moved forward, and placed her hand on the young Gryffindor's shoulder. "It's over, Hermione," she whispered.

Hermione eyes found hers, and then suddenly Minerva found the smaller woman clinging to her for dear life, sobbing. "Oh god," Hermione muttered between shaking breaths. "Oh god…"

Minerva could remember how she'd felt at the end of her first war. The relief was overwhelming, and in the presence of long sought after end of conflict, she had, as Hermione was now, suddenly mourned all the love ones lost. "It's alright, my dear," Minerva murmured. "I've got you."

* * *

"Hermione Granger!"

The young woman in question smiled brightly as the Headmistress called her name. She stood and walked forward; her last steps as a student as she moved to accept her diploma. She found herself remembering all those years ago when the same woman had called the same name, directing her to a stool and placing a ragged old hat on her head, which would sort her into Gryffindor House. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

She accepted the roll of parchment with a grin, briefly making eye contact with Minerva McGonagall, who offered her a warm smile in return. Hermione made her way back to her seat as the rest of her class was called forward, one by one. This year had been different than any other of her school years. The Headmistress was different. While any year before, any less than professional contact between them had been quickly forgotten, Hermione could see it in the older woman's eyes now that each moment they shared was one to be remembered. A few months ago, they had gotten drinks down at the Three Broomsticks, and when this term's new Potions master had tried to interrupt, Minerva had crisply stated that she was having drinks with _a friend_, and would he kindly wait till she returned to the school to discuss whatever he had wanted to discuss.

The notion of a friendship, a true friendship, with Minerva appealed greatly to Hermione, but still, there were some things that caused her to refrain from actively seeking the older woman out. They knew so little of each other, outside of what they each thought about the latest articles in _Transfiguration Today_, and what would make each of them cry. Those, Hermione thought, were odd things to base a friendship on.

After years of debating the issue internally, Hermione had finally accepted that she was a lesbian. She had not yet found any sort of relationship, though. She had not been seeking one because she didn't know how Minerva felt about homosexuals, and Hermione did not want to discover that the Headmistress thought badly of them by way of seeing her star pupil snogging some witch in a corridor. She hoped that Minerva wouldn't mind, wouldn't judge her, but hoping something didn't make it a fact, and she didn't know how to bring the subject up. There really wasn't much of a way to segway a conversation from "_How do you feel about Gawp's Third Law in reference to Madam Hathaway's article?" to "What is your opinion regarding homosexuality?"_

Hermione sighed as she heard Ron's name called, and while she was looking toward the front of the room, she found herself watching the woman in emerald green robes, rather than the young man with red hair whom most expected her to one day marry.

* * *

Minerva turned the corner in Diagon Alley towards Flourish and Blotts, determined to get there before closing, to get a copy of…

"Bloody hell," the Headmistress of Hogwarts quietly gasped, staring at the scene before her. Not twenty years away was her former student, Hermione Granger. Minerva had not seen or heard from the young woman in nearly two years, since the day she'd graduated from Hogwarts.

Yet, there she was, exchanging an obviously romantic kiss with another witch, whom Minerva recognized as a Ravenclaw girl who had been a year ahead of Hermione and the two other members of the Golden Trio. Minerva watched as the pair bid farewell to each other, and then watched as Hermione walked away, eventually apparating to who knew where once she was a safe distance from any buildings.

The notion that Hermione was gay, or at least bisexual, intrigued Minerva. Discovering something new about the brilliant Miss Granger always made her happy, though this particular discovery left her feeling at peace with her long standing interest in the brown eyed woman. Why had she not picked up on it before? Gay knew gay, right? While a closely guarded secret, mostly due to her profession, Minerva understood what it was to be a lesbian in the Wizarding World, and she found herself wishing she'd found out about Hermione sooner; she'd so wished for a friendship to form between herself and her former student, and this might have been just the thing, just the right conversation, to break the line between teacher and pupil and friendship.

* * *

Hermione watched Minerva across a crowded Transfiguration Conference Room with growing concern. She had, for the last several minutes, been engaging in a conversation with a tall, unfamiliar man, though he looked Bulgarian if his thick robes were anything to go on. As the conversation continued, Minerva grew more and more tight lipped, now and then spewing out a snappy remark, which unlike usual, did not dissuade her companion from continuing to engage in the conversation.

Hermione inched forward in the crowd, finally getting close enough to hear what Minerva and the unknown man were talking about.

"I think that if the Board saw fit to instate me as Headmistress, they must have felt my teaching skills were up to par," Minerva stated.

"One could easily assume you paid them off," the man argued. "Everyone knows the McGonagall name. Everyone knows how much money that means. That is a very weak argument as to why you ever were fit to teach."

Hermione watched as Minerva's face began to redden in fury, and she didn't blame the woman. How dare this man question her teaching skills? She was the best in the bloody field! Still, anger at the stranger beginning to fill her, the younger woman watched.

"My money has nothing to do with anything," Minerva spat.

"Well you haven't produced a Transfiguration Master or Mistress in the last thirty years," the man replied with a sickening smile. "While my students are known world-wide. What does that say?"

Hermione couldn't hold back anymore. She whipped out her wand, and silently began casting spells. The man's handsome robes were first; changing into a set of robes akin to what Sirius Black had been found in after his escape from Azkaban. Before continuing, she glanced toward Minerva, who wore a look of shock on her face, eyes seeking whoever was casting the spells. Still, Hermione did not step forward and identify herself, but she did keep watching her former Professor as she continued to cast more Transfiguration spells.

A rat's tail, long and ugly, sprouted from his behind, eliciting a sharp gasp from him. She gave him a pig's snout next, which made the beginnings of his verbal protests come out of his mouth in snorts and oinks. By that point, Minerva had begun to relax, and a small grin was forming on her lips. She still had not spotted Hermione, however.

Hermione completed her series of spells by giving the man a set of long, pointed donkey's ears, at which point his face expressed terror, and Minerva was openly laughing. Finally, Hermione stepped forward.

"Professor McGonagall taught her students not only how to work magic, but how not to be arrogant in its use," she stated clearly. "A lesson you clearly did not teach. I would be happy, sir, to give you a full demonstration of how excellent a teacher this woman is, should you require a further demonstration than the one you are currently wearing."

"Hermione?!" Minerva gasped, stunned.

"Good evening, Minerva," Hermione said kindly. "Pardon my intrusion, but I could not stand by and allow this idiot to berate you as he was."

"I...I…" Minerva sputtered. "That really wasn't necessary."

"Well, the last I saw that look in your eye it was right before you Transfigured a Death Eater into a bug and then stomped on him," Hermione said with a shrug. "As much as this man may be acting like one, I don't believe he is a Death Eater, which means should you have killed him, it would have meant Azkaban, which would have been unfortunate."

"Yes...well…." Minerva mumbled. It was obvious that Hermione's comment was not stretching the truth of what the older woman had been thinking.

"You've killed people?" the man gaped. "You're just some crusty old school teacher!"

Hermione just huffed. "She has fought in and lived through three wars, you idiot." With a flick of her wand, the man's appearance and clothing returned to their original state. "If you ever bother Minerva again, I'll transfigure you inside out and leave you that way. Now get out of here," she said in a hard, even tone.

The man hurried away without another glance at Minerva. Hermione sighed, and turned to face her former teacher, who was now wearing a very stern expression. "Were you still a student under my charge, I would have to expel you for that display, Miss Granger," Minerva stated.

Hermione smiled. "It's a good thing I'm no longer your student, then," she replied. "Good evening, Headmistress."

With that the brown eyed witch turned at walked away. "Very knight in shining bloody armor, 'Mione," she muttered to herself. "What must she think of you now?"

* * *

It had been just over a year since Hermione Granger had rushed to her defense at the Transfiguration Conference. For a year, Minerva had battled with herself regarding what to do about it. Not 'it', being the event in question, but rather 'it', being her relationship with the younger witch. After Hermione's graduation four years prior, Minerva had chosen to let Hermione come to her, should she desire to pursue a friendship. So far, the younger woman had not. She even seemed to be keeping a purposeful distance, which Minerva simply didn't understand. However, at this point the question of why was driving her insane, so she made the decision to seek her protegé out.

Hermione had finished her own Transfiguration Mastery a few days ago, an occasion which Minerva felt was a sufficient excuse to make contact. That morning she had sent Hermione an owl, offering to take her to dinner in congratulations of her accomplishment. Hermione had replied that she would be there.

Minerva was already waiting at the Italian eatery when her younger companion arrived. The two greeted, went inside, and ate dinner whilst discussing what they had each been up to in the last four years. Now, dinner was coming to a close, and with several glasses of wine in each of their systems, the older witch decided to ask the questions she'd been wanting the answers to for several years.

"You know, Hermione," Minerva said casually. "I was quite surprised that you didn't seek a friendship with me after you graduated from Hogwarts. You and I were closer than most teachers ever are to their students, and while you were in school it made sense to keep a distance...but after…"

Hermione smiled. "I was waiting for you to come to me. The...interactions we had while I was at Hogwarts, well...you initiated most of them. You always knew you could come to me if you needed to, so I figured that if you wanted to see me after I'd graduated, the same would apply."

"I didn't want to seem...pushy," Minerva admitted, blushing.

"The door was always open," Hermione said. "As it is now. I was very pleased to get your Owl this morning. Am I to guess that you'd been waiting for a good excuse to make contact?"

Minerva looked at Hermione, once more surprised at the younger woman's perceptiveness. It was uncanny how well Hermione _knew_ her. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Oh, I'm not all that," Hermione replied softly.

"Says the woman who came to defend my honor, when my date of the evening stood on the other side of the room, hiding."

Hermione got a mischievous look on her face. "Date, huh? Still with this man?"

"Woman," Minerva correctly softly. "And no. While I was seeking a committed companionship, she was seeking a short term fling with someone famous. It only lasted a few weeks past the conference last year."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're…you...I mean…?"

"I am a lesbian, yes," Minerva admitted. "I'm surprised you hadn't already guessed as much. You're not strictly straight yourself, either, Miss Granger."

"No, I'm not," Hermione replied. "Though I had no idea you were aware of that."

"Saw you with a woman in Diagon Alley a few years back," the older witch confessed.

"Dina," Hermione huffed.

"I take it you two are not still an item then?" Minerva guessed from Hermione tone of voice.

"Not bloody likely. I work hard to keep my sexuality under wraps. Rita Skeeter still thinks I'm dating Ron, for crying out loud. But Dina didn't like the secrets; didn't like that she couldn't shout it on the rooftops that she was shagging _the Hermione Granger_. I wish I could find someone that understood that it's not about keeping some dirty secret, but rather an issue of privacy."

"I understand that," the older woman agreed.

She certainly understood that...

* * *

Having tea once a month or so with Minerva had offered Hermione a lot of insight into who the esteemed Head of Hogwarts really was. Their friendship was very casual still, though she had enjoyed the increase in contact. At almost thirty, she thought she was far enough removed from the title of 'student' to interact with her former Professor publicly, so here at the ten year anniversary Gala, of the end of the war, Hermione made her way through the crowd to say hello.

Minerva was busily engaged in a conversation with a woman who looked to be about Minerva's age, and by how close the stood, Hermione guessed that this person was either a very dear friend, or the new lover whom Minerva had mentioned the last time they'd had tea, three weeks ago.

"Hermione!" Minerva greeted, spotting her.

The woman she was with glanced at Hermione sourly, especially after Minerva launched into conversation with her younger friend, completely ignoring her blond companion. They continued to chat for about fifteen minutes before the Minister pulled Minerva away, intent on introducing her to the newest member of the Board of Governors.

Hermione watching her go, smiling. It escaped her attention that the woman Minerva had been with was still standing there, but not for long…

"You need to stay away from Minerva," the woman snapped suddenly.

Hermione turned around, and faced the blond woman. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"She's my lover, not yours. Yet all she does is talk about _Hermione this_ and _Hermione that_. You are in the way, Granger," the accusation spilled out.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly. "It is not my intention to come between you. We are merely friends."

The woman huffed. "She says the same thing. That said, a mudblood like you has no business around the likes of a McGonagall. You stay away from her, or I will make sure the Prophet finds out just how queer the both of you are."

Hermione stepped back, shocked at being called a name she had not been called in ten years, and even more shocked that Minerva would actually date someone like that. "Very well," she murmurred. While she wished she could talk to Minerva, tell the older witch what her date had said, she could tell that this woman was not bluffing when she said she'd go public about Minerva's sexuality, not to mention her own. If it was just about her, she'd gladly face the music, but Minerva's secret was not hers to spill, and so she turned and walked away.

She didn't notice her best friend Harry watching her looking achingly at the ebony haired witch in emerald robes before she apparated away.

* * *

**Thank you ALL for your support and encouragement over the years. It means the world to me. **

**Please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright ladies, this is it! The third and final part of Watchers is complete. Thank you all for your support on this story and my other stories. It means the world to me that you all still think my fics are worth your time to read and review! Now, without further ado... **

* * *

It had been several months since Minerva had last seen Hermione, at the Ministry Gala she'd attended with Susana. Like herself, Susana was from an old family, and had lots of money. She knew the value or privacy. The blond woman wasn't quite as intelligent as Minerva would have liked, but that was okay; she had Hermione to keep her debating skills honed.

Or at least, she thought she had. Things had been going so well between them. They'd met often for tea and discussion, but in the last few months, Hermione had declined every invitation Minerva threw her way, and never made any of her own. On one hand, she thought to ask the younger witch whatever was the matter, but she somehow doubted that Hermoine would freely offer the answer, if she had not done so already. Merlin knew that there was no way of forcing it out of the younger woman, at least not without causing a further rift between them, not to mention an inquiry at the Ministry for use of spells only allowed to be used by non-Aurors during war-time.

That said, there were other things Minerva had learned through the course of three wars in the area of how to obtain information. Spying seemed to be the safest bet, so every free moment the Headmistress had found in the last two weeks had been spent doing just that. Susana, of course, was furious with her by now, but for some reason, she really didn't care. Susana just didn't understand how important Hermione was to her. Hell, she wasn't even sure _she_ understood that.

Today, Hermione had arranged for tea with her best friend, Harry Potter. Actually, Harry had been the arranger, and he'd told Ron about it, who had told Molly, who Minerva had gotten the information from. Minerva sat in her animagus form on a patio chair, neatly tucked under a matching table, next to an identical table which was occupied by her two former students.

"So, Harry," Hermione started the conversation. "What's all this about?"

"I wanted to talk to you about McGonagall," Harry said, raising Minerva's attention right away. What did he care about their friendship? Or, as the case was now, their lack thereof?

"What about her?" Hermione asked, looking glum.

"Do you...er...well, that is to say...do you think…?"

"Just spit it out, Harry," the brown eyed witch said, looking amused at his stuttering as she took a sip of water.

"Are you in love with her?" he blurted out, causing Hermione to spit out her water in surprise, and causing Minerva's cat eyes to go wide. It had never once crossed her mind that Hermione might be avoiding her because she'd developed romantic feelings.

"Of course not!" Hermione said adamantly. "What on earth would make you say that?"

Harry looked at her pointedly. "I know you 'Mione. Fess up."

Minerva wasn't blinking as she watched the expression on Hermione's face contort. Anger was there, and sadness. Joy was as well, though it seemed to be tempered by a look of confusion.

"I admit that I find her attractive," Hermione conceded. "Though regardless of what anyone else may think, we are...were, merely friends."

Interesting as it was to know that Hermione found her attractive, Minerva was more intrigued by the next question Harry asked. "Then how come you've been avoiding her since the Gala?"

"It's complicated, Harry. All I will say is that by staying away from her, I am protecting her," Hermione replied after a moment. "Don't press the issue."

Worry overwhelmed Minerva, though a quick glance at a clock on the wall told her that she had to leave now if she was to make the meeting with the Board. _Damnit_, she thought. _What on earth could Hermione think she was protecting her from?_

* * *

Nearly two years after Hermione's last encounter with Minerva, which had ended with the older witch's lover telling her to shove off, it still stung when the brown eyed woman say emerald robes sweeping along. Yet, there she was, appearing stong as ever, trotting down Diagon Alley towards Florish and Blotts. That _had_ been Hermione's destination as well, but now, she thought better of it. She could come back later, or maybe tomorrow.

And that was how things had been since that night. Hermione would see Minerva now and then, and she couldn't help but stay and watch for awhile, but she always stayed out of sight, and never approached. She had heard, via Rolanda Hooch, that Minerva had parted ways with her blond paramour some months ago, but the fear of being the reason Minerva's sexuality became public knowledge still kept her away. That and, if she was really honest with herself, she kept away to prove a point to her best friend.

Harry still liked to nag her about her supposed feelings toward the older woman. As she'd admitted to Harry, she did find Minerva attractive, very much so in fact, but they were very different people in different stages of life, and even if she were developing a romantic interest - _which she was NOT _- she still would not pursue it.

By the time Hermione realized how lost in her thoughts she had been, Minerva had gone into the bookshop, made several purchases, and was now exiting. Despite herself, Hermione felt her feet moving to follow the Headmistress.

Down the alley Minerva went and Hermione followed, watching the older woman glance around carefully before entering a little pub. Hermione didn't dare follow inside, but she did find a window to look in, and was surprised to see Minerva arguing with a a woman she knew from Ministry - Ellie Barrett. With a quick flick of her wand, the window opened slightly and Hermione could hear what was being said.

"I just don't get you Min!" Ellie groaned. "Yesterday you jump my bones in an empty classroom and the next you act as though I don't exist."

"I just…" Minerva sputtered. "It was a heat of the moment thing, and I regretted it. I'm sorry, Ellie, but I have to keep my personal life under wraps."

"I think it's best we don't see one another again," Ellie said crisply. "Because while you may claim that to be your reasoning, you came to my office for a reason last week, and it wasn't because you were looking for a date."

"Don't you dare bring her into this!" Minerva hissed harshly.

"Are you in love with her?" Ellie pressed.

"No!" Minerva insisted. "I just can't stand the fact that she's avoiding me. It makes no sense at all."

"So she's just a puzzle to figure out?" Ellie asked, rolling her eyes.

"She's more than that," Minerva said quietly. "She's one of the few truly good people I've ever had the pleasure to meet, and it concerns me that…it's simply out of character for her. I heard her say to Potter that she was protecting me, but I haven't the slightest idea from what!"

And suddenly, Hermione realized that Minerva was talking about _her._ That Minerva had sought out Ellie, a co-worker of hers at the Ministry, to inquire after _her_. "Oh my," Hermione whispered to herself.

"I think it's about time you start to question the nature of your feelings toward her," Ellie said, voice softening. "Because I'm fairly sure I'm not the only witch out there now who has heard you whisper her name when you thought they were asleep."

"I'm not in love with Hermione," Minerva insisted weakly.

"Right," Ellie shrugged. "Whatever you say, Minerva. Good day."

Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet. If Ellie saw her now…

Taking one more brief glance at the woman with ebony hair, Hermione hurried away, apparating as soon as she was far enough from the building.

* * *

Minerva had been out on the town for a good time and already dumped for the evening. Why did it have to be so bloody hard to find a woman who was attractive, intelligent, and understood and respected the need for discretion? If she her luck didn't start improving soon, she thought she may start looking at muggle women. She didn't think she was _that_ picky, or _that_ hard to get along with, but anyone who she really liked was apparently unable to handle the ins and outs of what it meant to be with the _Headmistress_, and anyone who seemed to be interested in sticking around turned out to be someone she couldn't stand in the long run. And that, right there, was the rub. Minerva wanted a long term relationship. She wanted a love that would last. She didn't want to die alone.

Being in a foul mood did not dampen Minerva's senses, however, and as she strode in the direction of a muggle theater, her magic picked up on a familiar signature. _Hermione._ The younger woman had to be close by. Green eyes scanned the crowd at the ticket booth, and a moment later, Minerva spotted her former student, waiting in line, alone. She watched as Hermione paid and went inside, and after a moment of further debate, her mind settled and she joined the end of the line. She had no idea what was playing, but she imagined that she really wouldn't be paying much attention anyway.

About one in three of her lovers over the last ten years had left her because they thought Hermione Granger, even though they hadn't spoken in years, was standing in the forefront of Minerva's heart. She supposed it was about time she start to really think about what she felt for the younger witch, because she either needed to come to the realization that they were right, or she needed to let the notion of a friendship that had never really formed go, as no matter which way she looked at it, Hermione Granger was tying her down.

* * *

Hermione pretended not to notice the familiar head of hair a few rows ahead of her in the theater. She'd seen Minerva here often in the last ten months. They never spoke, never even acknowledged they'd noticed each other. But for ten months, Hermione had watched the older which arrive and leave alone. Minerva didn't seem sad about being on her own, and Hermione figured that whoever her former Professor happened to be seeing at the moment probably just didn't enjoy the theater.

It was a shame, Hermione found herself thinking. Minerva deserved to be with someone she could share her life with, not just sleep with. She needed someone to match her intellect, to be passionate with, not just towards. Hermione quite suddenly found herself wondering why Minerva had never asked her on a date, and in the space of that thought and the tiny gasp that followed, she realized that Harry was right - she was in love in Minerva.

She, Hermione Jean Granger, had sometime in the last twenty odd years, had fallen in love with her teacher, mentor, and friend. The thought made her chest feel tight, and a sense of jealousy roared to life as she remembered all the women, that she knew of, who had found themselves in bed with the amazing witch three rows ahead of her now. The feeling made it decidedly difficult to breathe, and so Hermione quickly stood and walked out of the theater, searching for space and air that wasn't shared by the green eyed witch she'd somehow allowed to steal her heart.

A part of her wanted to wait for the show to finish, and reach out to Minerva tonight, but the waves of emotion coursing through her now could only lead to rash actions, and as quickly as she'd realized that she was in love, she realized that she was not ready to act on it, and nor, she imagined, was Minerva. All that this moment changed was that the next time they ran into one another, the avoiding would stop. Tonight marked the end of running away from the thought of a love that could be.

* * *

Minerva had not been on a date in almost two years now. At least, not one with another person. For the last twenty-four months she had mulled over her feeling for one Hermione Granger. About a year ago, there had been a sudden shift in Hermione's behavior, in which when they happened to cross paths, the younger woman would nod, and even smile at her. Sometimes, she even said "Hello", before moving along. It never turned into a conversation, but still, it was something.

That _something_ was confusion. Frustration. A desire to become the avoider, and at the same time, a desire to shove the younger witch against a wall and snog her senseless.

When had she realized that Hermione was beautiful? Was in a year ago when the younger witch had smiled directly at her for the first time in eons? Or at the ten year Gala? She'd been wearing the most splendid red dress that evening. Perhaps it had been the night at the Transfiguration conference when Hermione had rescued her from that Bulgarian pig of a man.

Or maybe she'd known it for much longer than that. Minerva smiled to herself, resting her chin in her hand as she pretended to be watching the show, when in reality she was remembering how amazing Hermione had looked fighting Death Eaters during the last battle. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought back even further, recalling a much younger Hermione walking down the stairs and into the arms of Viktor Krum, the night of the Yule Ball at Hogwarts.

Years of accusations about how she seemed to care for Hermione more than she'd admit filled her mind. All of the sudden, they didn't seem so preposterous. A quick glance to the woman three rows behind her resulted in an overwhelming sense of peace.

Yes.

She was in love with Hermione Granger. Minerva wondered if the reason the younger witch had been keeping such a distance all these years was because she felt the same. That would be a beautiful thing, indeed.

When Hermione caught her staring, the younger woman blushed and offered a small grin. _Yes_, Minerva thought. There was something there. What that something was she had yet to determine, but she promised herself she would figure it out.

The show ended half an hour later, but when Minerva's eyes searched for the telltale head of chestnut curls, she found that Hermione had already slipped away. She instinctively knew that she was not alone in the thought that they needed to talk, but Hermione was obviously not ready for that, yet. Minerva resolved that when the younger witch was, she would be ready as well.

There would be no more flings. She'd be ready for more than a short term relationship; more than a romance to walk away from. The next time she spoke to Hermione, Minerva would be ready for the rest of her life.

* * *

It had been fifteen years to the day since Harry had killed Voldemort. There was another Anniversary Gala tonight, and as Hermione had expected, Minerva was there.

She always was, these days. Hermione didn't know how she'd managed to be in love with someone this many years and only come to terms with it three years ago. That seemed such a long time to wait to pursue a relationship, but what was three years when she'd already waited more than twenty? A few weeks ago had marked a quarter of a century since she'd met Minerva, the day the older witch had come to her parents' home and told her that she was a witch. She'd known even then that Minerva was special, but smart as she was, it had taken her this much time to realize how special she really was. This was the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Tonight was the night. Now was the moment. With a deep breath, she made her way to the other side of the room where Minerva was standing, staring at the crowds of people around them. "Good evening, Minerva," she said quietly.

The older witch turned, and smiled softly. "Hermione," she whispered, breathlessly.

"Walk with me?" she asked, offering a hand.

Minerva didn't hesitate in slipping her hand into Hermione's. Fingers intertwined, and the pair walked out of the ballroom on to a lavishly decorated balcony. There was no one else there, everyone else still too busy greeting friends they'd not seen in several years.

"You look beautiful," Minerva said as they came to a stop, facing each other. Hermione's breath shuddered as the older woman's fingers ghosted the side of her face. "So beautiful."

"As do you," Hermione replied, letting her hand rest on her former teacher's waist.

Minerva sighed happily. "Is this finally happening?"

"I hope so," the younger replied. "Only one way to know for sure, though."

Nothing more needed to be said. The two women leaned forward as one, lips meeting softly, cautious but wanting. Desire and love were poured into the kiss, Hermione pulling Minerva's body closer, and Minerva running her fingers through locks of curly brown hair. After a moment, they pulled back, a sense of utter calm surrounding them.

Neither had another care in the world as emerald eyes met chocolate ones.

"I'm in love with you," Hermione whispered her confession.

"And I am in love with you," Minerva replied in kind. "I don't know why it took me so long to realize, but it's always been you."

* * *

Neither woman was seen again that evening. The following morning, Harry Potter would be heard letting out a WHOOP when he opened the _Prophet_ and saw a page two announcement that the previous night, Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall had eloped.

"_We had already waited so long." _Minerva had been quoted to have said.

"_And we were already dressed for the occasion."_ Hermione had added to the statement.

The article had claimed that after leaving the Gala and going to the office of Marital Affairs to wed, the pair had left the country for a long honeymoon, destination unknown, only saying that they would return my September the first, when the Headmistress would be needed at Hogwarts.

Harry expected that their lives would continue on much as they had. He knew the two both went to the theater once a month, and that they were often seen at the same conferences and other such events. He expected that Hermione would move to Hogwarts with Minerva, and they'd probably summer up in the Highlands at Minerva's manor. Hermione would keep working at the Ministry, he thought...at least until they decided to start a family. Thirty-five was still plenty young for his best friend to have a baby or two.

"To 'Mione and Minerva," Harry said with a grin, raising his cup of coffee to his still empty office.

* * *

**Again, my thanks! I am not ruling out a sequel for this, but I have nothing planning for one either. We'll see. Merlin knows I've got plenty of other projects to finish, as well as a pile still sitting on the drawing board. I hope you are happy with how I concluded this story. Please review and let me know what you thought!**


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